


The Wanted Man

by impish_nature



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Psychic Abilities, Songfic, homeless stan, renegade by styx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homeless Stan fic inspired by a tumblr ask - Renegade by Styx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wanted Man

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’m back! Kind of! Trying anyway 8D It’s been an uncreative week but hopefully you can all forgive me ♥ Went with the headcanon of ‘Cassandra’ as their mother’s name because I do quite like the overlaps you can then draw ^.^ ♥ Oh and the song also made me think of an amazing fic by @logicalbookthief so I tried to go a bit different, but it does have a similar vibe so you should definitely go check that out too ♥

It was far too cold to be out at this time of night.

Cassandra shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she took stock of her surroundings in confusion. “How did I- Why am I out-?” She shook her head in confusion, eyes scrutinising her surroundings. She was in a dark alley way at the bottom of a narrow set of stone steps. A street light flickered at the top, the only source of light yet it somehow didn’t seem inviting, a trap to lure unwitting victims as it sputtered through the night. She eyed it suspiciously for a few moments, before glancing straight up, her eyes narrowing at the odd view above the buildings.

There was not a star in sight, nor the moon and yet she found that her vision wasn’t all that impeded.

Another shudder wracked through her, a tingling at the back of her brain whispering to pay attention to everything, to stay alert and stay safe even as her arms tightened around her.

Something about this entire situation felt _off_.

_This isn’t right, this shouldn’t be happening. Why am I here? Where am I?_

She turned away from the steps, listening to her intuition that the light was a trick, one that could not be trusted when movement froze her in her tracks.

Someone was coming towards her.

She squinted, the shifts in the shadows too far for her to see clearly but she was sure that there were three figures coming towards her. Again something sent her heart racing, her gut telling her that there was something terribly and utterly wrong about this.

And then suddenly it hit her.

There were three figures coming towards her, heavy footfalls obvious the closer they got to her.

And yet no sound hit her ears, a deadly silence twisting around her as if her ears were full of cotton wool that muffled the scene before her.

It didn’t muffle the horror that came with realising the man she saw before her was her own son.

“Stanley!” She cried out, running forward a few steps, but they fell flat. There was no reverberation like there should be in the enclosed space and neither her son nor the two men following close behind looked up at her, even noticed her presence. Her blood turned to ice at the image as it came closer and closer; Stan, arms behind his back- _were they tied? Why were his hands tied?_ – his head down, aimed at the floor, resigned to his fate. Accepting whatever was about to befall him.

Cassandra hated that look on his face. He was a fighter, he’d always been her little free spirit, where was that spirit now?

_Gone. Broken down._ Her insidious thoughts whispered back but she bit back the guilt trying to flow freely at the hissing voice. He’d been gone too long from her sight, from her watchful eye and ever present praise when his father hadn’t felt the need to provide it.

And now all she could see was a young man, grown from the last time she’d seen him but still her baby, his feet trudged ever onwards, continuous and unfaltering as the others towered above him, silhouettes of cold calculated action with no compassion. She didn’t know where they were leading him but the air was heavy, thick and cloying with a prevailing wind of dread that sent her into overdrive.

Every step towards where she stood felt like another step he was taking further from her reach. He was a world away from her and there was nothing she could do to halt the footfalls that beat in tandem with her heart, a drumbeat, steady but full of terrifying promise. _Don’t go where I can’t follow Stanley, it’s not your time yet. Don’t you dare, it’s far too soon._ “Stanley…”

The way he suddenly moved almost made her hope that he had heard and answered her call.

Stan glanced up to check ahead of him, Cassandra realising his glance down had been one of concentration not acceptance as he yanked his arms away from one another and something fell to the floor behind him. She couldn’t hear the snapping of his binds but it was obvious the other two did as they glanced down in shock at their captive who fluidly turned around to them, arm swinging as he went, catching one in the chin before darting back and lining up to land a kick to the other.

She almost cheered for him as the men stumbled back, reeling at the blows, but the shout caught in her throat as Stan looked behind him, at her, to check for trouble before turning back to his assailants.

A smile instead grew across her face, worried but relieved at the fire burning in those eyes that said the world would have to take him kicking and screaming.

And in that moment as she saw the embers glowing back in his gaze she remembered pulling her small boy aside once when he’d been close to admitting defeat.

_Don’t be scared of them, never be scared of the bullies, they’re nothing compared to you. You keep your chin up and your head held high. You’ll burn brighter than them in the long run my little spark._

She hated what she was being shown, hated her boy in trouble where she couldn’t help him but pride burned deep within her veins, her hands gripping tight into her top as she willing him to succeed and keep fighting, to keep _living_. And he did, he fought tooth and claw, fighting for his survival as he got back up time and again and levelled blow after blow against the two who couldn’t quite keep up, the initial hits dazing them enough to give him the upper hand.

Her little boy up against the odds and yet winning.

Their family had always been filled with gamblers, and god did she love to bet on the underdog.

_Come on, my little free spirit, you keep going and get yourself somewhere safe-_

Everything froze in front of her, just when she thought that Stan would be victorious. It was just for a breath, a stutter of a moment before Stan spun around to face her, eyes wild and ferocious, fists raised, ready to carry on fighting to the bitter end.

And with a gasp of pain she watched his hands drop to his sides, his gritted teeth slacken.

She followed his gaze, static filling her ears as her breath ghosted out in front of her.

A figure stood at the top of the stone steps, the flickering light from the street lamp giving them an ethereal glow and cast their features in shadow. With every blink the image changed; first a man, eyes and teeth somehow aglow with victorious rage, arm outstretched and the gleam of metal visible in his grasp. The next it changed entirely, the figure became skeletal, arm outstretched and beckoning for her son to come to him, face utterly neutral in contrast to the situation.

It cast her mind to the books that littered her work space, of visions she never wished to see. Her heart stuttering at the sketches made flesh.

She dragged her eyes away as the figure reformed to the man that had stopped her son’s fight for survival, going back to Stan instead. She locked up when he found him staring straight back at her, a soft smile on his face as if he could finally see her. She took a step forward, reaching out to him but he shook his head, his eyes losing the spark they had been holding again. It was like he knew, he knew that she was there with him and that was enough, accepting his fate in the knowledge that someone was by his side.

He reached a hand towards her hesitantly before thinking better of it, turning back to the man at the top of the steps. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, his hands falling back to his sides again in grim defeat.

Her stomach twisted as he smiled, eyes opening again as the air left his lungs, a fierce grim gleam to his eyes as he raised his arms out to either side of himself, goading the man at the top of the stairs. She winced as his mouth opened, not hearing what was being said but knowing the man enough to know that his sharp tongue and sarcastic words would always be his undoing.

Death would take him as he’d lived life. Defiant and proud, head held high with a lie and a smile on his lips.

The first and last sound she heard was a loud crack, the smell of gunpowder sizzling through the air.

 

* * *

 

“Stanley!”

Cassandra jolted upright, her breathing heavy and panting as the word tore from her lips. The sudden warmth and darkness puzzled her, a sharp contrast and relief from the damp, dark alleyway she’d been even moments before. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, for her heart beat to return to a slower steady beat. Her husband rolled over beside her, a mumble of annoyance under his breath that somehow calmed her further.

“Just a dream…”

_Was it? Or was it one of_ **those** _?_

She gulped, letting the urge to pace take her and slipping quietly out of the bed to make her way downstairs. It had been a long time since she had seen one of ‘those’ dreams. When they were still small and full of curiosity and she’d seen them hurt themselves or pulled out to sea. Days when they’d grumble and whine at her for making them stay in with her, only to find out later on the news that there had been accidents where they had been planning to go, or other kids hurt in rock pools along the beach. They’d made sure to listen to her when they were young, full of excitement at their mother’s innate ability to know what could happen. She almost smiled remembering Ford’s rapid pace questions some mornings when she said something even slightly hinting at an ability.

_What did you see? Are the symbols in your books true? Is it like a dream or a series of images?_

The gleeful interest and nodding acceptance of her words slowly disappeared as they grew up, turned into teenage mockery and rolled eyes at her ever increasing bids to get them to just _listen_.

Her soft smile dropped as she turned on the light in the living room, fulling down next to her phone in the window seat.

The last straw, the last ‘dream’ she remembered having ached deep within her soul for not having been able to stop it happening.

When her boys had still been together and she’d seen them torn apart at the seams.

That one had been much more visceral than the others. There had been no real clues for what was going on that she could stop. Only her boys spotlighted in an otherwise blank black canvas and the sound of tearing, crunching metal that shook her to her core and had her clapping her hands over her ears at the ringing sound.

The sound abruptly stopped and she opened her eyes, not realising she’d closed them against the onslaught. Her eyes grew wide, hands dropping from her ears as Ford turned his back on Stan who in panic raised his arm out towards his brothers retreating back.

And in a blink of an eye, he vanished from sight, leaving only Ford in her view and a flood of fear ran through her as Ford turned around to find his brother gone too, his face awash with grim satisfaction, though it kept flickering to concern as if he was trying to hide it from even himself.

It had been a week later when the science fair incident happened and Filbrick had kicked Stan out.

She felt disappointed in herself for not standing up then, her visions were always something to be avoided and yet she’d been so shocked at the turn of events she hadn’t been able to think of a way out of it. And then Stan was gone and her fears had been confirmed. She’d lost him, she had no idea where he had gone or what he would do.

But then her free spirit surprised her and changed his future himself.

He rang home. He kept in touch with her. He hadn’t vanished entirely from her sight like the vision had told her.

Perhaps it would help them all in the long run.

But now. She stared out of the window as her thoughts turned to her latest vision. Now she had seen him again and had no way to contact him. What if it was happening right now and there was nothing she could do? _What if he needs me-_

A sharp shrill noise jolted her before the panic set in, her heart racing at the sudden interruption as she glanced down at the phone. She quickly picked it up, fearful of others in the house being woken, eclipsing the small voice in her head that reminded her it was late at night and no one should be ringing at this hour. “Hello?”

“Ma? That was quick, what are you doing up?”

Cassandra felt all the air leave her at the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. “Stanley.” The word came out as a prayer, a soft thankful plea to any deity watching for giving her this moment.

“Ma? Ma, are you crying? Sh-shoot, are you OK? Did something happen?”

“No, no, I-” Her voice caught in her throat, hand scrubbing at her eyes quickly. What did she say? _I had a nightmare about you and then you’ve rung?_ No, he’d tell her off for being superstitious now, so far from the little star struck boy he once was. Hell, too good of a liar now in general to keep her from panicking, would probably push away all her fears with some joking words and a jovial lilt to his voice as if nothing was happening. But she knew better. _It wasn’t just a dream. It hasn’t happened yet, that’s all. I need to make sure nothing happens to him._ “Why are you ringing so late, hun?”

“Wait, what?”

“Why are you ringing this late, must be a reason.”

“Oh, is it late over there? Sorry, I forgot the time zones. Should I call back later?”

“No, no, no, don’t you dare.” Cassandra glared at nothing, as she tapped at her knee. “And don’t you lie to me. You asked me what I was doing up as soon as I answered the phone.”

“Oh, uhh, right…uhm, I just thought you got to the phone quickly.”

She frowned, biting her lip at the hesitant and lost voice. It wasn’t like him to be flustered out of a lie so easily. “Stanley, what’s going on?”

“Why do you think something’s going on?”

She growled into the phone as the charmer came back, the soft amused voice that was a mask even if she couldn’t see his face. “Now listen here you, I can hear through all your lies. You know that. I’m psychic, remember?”

“Just because I rang your psychic hotline doesn’t mean I believe any of that junk, you know that. Or do I have pay you for ringing and for whatever advice you’re about to give me?”

Cassandra chuckled, unable to stop herself. “Well, I’ll cut you a deal on this one, just this once.”

“Phew.” She could almost hear the exaggerated wipe across his forehead as he went. “I thought I might have to put the phone down.”

“Don’t you dare.” She quipped back at him, settling down in her seat. “Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

A long suffering sigh sounded through the receiver. “Nothing’s wrong, Ma.”

“But-”

“I just really needed to talk to you, that’s all, Ma.”

Her face dropped into dismay as she gripped the phone tight, the acceptance heavy in his voice. This was it. He knew what was going to happen, he just wouldn’t talk to her about it. “What about?”

“Nothing, really. Well, no. I wanted to make sure everything was OK back home.”

“Everyone’s fine here.”

“And Ford?”

The hesitation in his voice when asking about his brother made her bite her lip to stop more tears. Why had they grown so far apart? “He’s just moved up to some little place called Gravity Falls, doing what he loves up there now from the few letters I get.”

“Wow, look at the genius go. Always knew he’d make it.” He went quiet for a moment. “Will you let him know I’m proud of him? And that I’m sorry I made it harder for him.”

“You should tell him yourself.” The words came out before she could stop them, anything to give him something to do other than sit and accept his fate. She could hear it in his voice, this was no chat, it was a goodbye, pure and simple. Making amends with them, bidding farewell before-

The two silhouettes gripping his arms tightly filled her gaze again.

They were coming for him.

“He wouldn’t listen to me. He’d probably put the phone down if I spoke to him.”

“I’ll get him to ring you then.”

“What? Ma, I know you can strong arm me a lot but even that’s a bit-”

“No, I’ll do it. He’ll ring you tonight…you’ll wait for the call right?”

“Ma, I-” He stuttered to a halt, his breathing heavy and pained. “Ma, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

“Cause I know you’re lying to me. I know something is up. Will you do this for me? Will you wait for your brother to ring?”

“I don’t know if I have time.”

“They’re coming for you, aren’t they?” Her words slipped out again without her consent, a small hitch in Stan’s breathing all she needed to know that her dream had been real, that she didn’t have long to change it.

Ford hadn’t been in her vision, adding him to the mix might change things.

“Ma, how do you know-”

“I’m your mother, I know everything.”

A small hysterical laugh sounded on the other end of the phone. “Alright, alright, I believe you.”

She nodded, her expression clearing slightly as the lies stopped. “Alright, I’ll ring Ford now.”

“No! Please-” His voice was pleading, a dark pang choking at her heart at the voice. “ _Please_ , just, keep talking to me? Just for a little while longer?”

Her heart broke at the voice, more tears flowing freely as she settled back. “OK, OK, I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you all alone.” She took a steady breath, her eyes determined. “Now are you going to be truthful with me?”

“…I’m scared, Ma. I’m not ready.”

She closed her eyes, letting the genuine note of fear that cut away all his bravado steel her, let herself pretend it was just her little boy scared of a nightmare and not something far far worse. “I know, Stan, I know.”

“H-how’s Shermie doing?”

And just like that the genuine hint to his voice was gone. Cassandra took a deep breath, letting a fake smile follow suit to his obvious grimace of a smile through the phone and let herself become his distraction.

 

* * *

 

Ford sighed as he put the phone down to his mother. He bit his lip, tapping out a tune on the small piece of paper before him where he’d scribbled Stan’s number, his heart racing at the thought of picking up the phone and talking to him.

His mother was right of course, he couldn’t bear to think about Stan being hurt _or worse_ , even after everything. He wasn’t _that_ angry at him, not really. He’d never wish him hurt.

But then what if he was right and his mother wasn’t? That this was all an elaborate ruse to get himself back into the family when he wasn’t in danger at all?

He supposed the latter option would be preferable, really. He’d have another reason to be angry at his brother and another reason to be relieved that he was safe and OK and he’d just played their mother because he was sad and lonely since he’d been kicked out. Whilst that turned his stomach he knew deep down, though he’d never admit it, that talking to his brother and knowing he was at least alive and well would clear his mind at any rate.

They hadn’t spoken in years after all, he had no idea what he had done in that time, how he’d looked after himself. He’d wondered it slightly, only a little while ago when he’d moved to Gravity Falls and getting a place to live had felt like a mountain of work he really didn’t have time for.

He’d wondered, just for a moment before crushing the thought, how his brother had gotten a roof over his head or how he’d paid for food since being kicked out.

He shook his head at the unbidden thoughts, not liking where they could head. He scowled, picking the piece of paper up just to glare at it. It was all his mother’s fault, making him think that Stan might be in trouble and making all these unwanted feelings come up in response, made him question his resentment in contrast to his concern for his brother that he thought had melted away by now.

He gave an exasperated sigh. There was no way he’d be sleeping easily until he rung, he might as well get it over and done with.

And the more he focused on those irritated thoughts and feelings the more he could pretend that his heart wasn’t beating a worried tune in his chest and his fingers weren’t still tapping agitatedly against the wooden desk in fear of a very different kind of response.

The more he could pretend he didn’t feel sick to his stomach because deep down he knew the things his mother saw had some semblance of truth to them and always had, he just never wanted to believe it.

_I’ll just ring and he’ll pick up and I’ll know he’s lying. Ma might think she knew him but I could always tell. And then we’ll argue and I’ll go to bed knowing that this was all just another of Stan’s worthless tricks-_

The phone was ringing before he even realised he’d typed in the number. He jumped to attention at the first ring, waiting impatiently, and getting more so with every ring.

There was a sudden clatter as the phone was picked up. “Stan-”

The line went dead before he’d even finished the word.

His breathing hitched. There was no way Stan had even gotten the phone to his ear to know who it was. Maybe it was because of his mother’s worried voice ringing through his head but the loud rattle had almost sounded less like the phone had been picked up and more like it had been dropped or lunged for.

He gulped, redialling the number, his fingers shaking as his head filled with unwanted images, cursing his imagination and his mother’s words ringing round his mind.

The phone dropped from his hand with a solid thud as three familiar beeps echoed out to him and his mind went blank, his heart skipping a beat.

The robotic voice rolled over him, the quiet of the night lending to its impassive and slightly apologetic tone.

“ _We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: dun dun duuuuun. I kind of thought it’d be interesting to get more songs to carry this on - though obviously only if the song speaks like this one did. So depending on the next song if there is one depends on whether it gets a happier ending or a sad one. Though this may go on and on which would also be kind of fun (or go nowhere *shrugs* either way, thank you for this song ♥)
> 
> Oh and I don’t know why but when I was writing I really wanted to have Cassandra call Stan her ‘little fire starter’ I changed it to spark cause it sounded less weird but...fire in general with Stan, you know? Thought it was interesting to have her always associate him with fire.


End file.
